May 8th, 1945
by Witchmeister
Summary: After being drafted, taken political prisoner, going mia and losing a limb Bucky finally returns home to Steve. (Pre Winter Stucky, Smut/Lemon/Yaoi, Top Bucky, Bottom Steve, Porn)
1. Chapter 1

I'm kissing him, or more he's kissing me. That small blonde brash idiot, has his lips pressed against mine, holding onto me as if his life depended on it (and being honest it just might). So many thoughts, too many thoughts. Buck, fuck focus. It's Steve. It's only Steve. The only person you'd trust, or spend forever with, or even let keep secrets like these, this? This right now? Oh god what even is this?

I finally pull away and rest my forehead against his. I'm breathing heavily, shaking even. Trenches, bombs, imprisonment, liberation, sex, drugs, alcohol, loss, nothing could compare to what I'm feeling now. What am I even feeling now? Adrenaline for sure, maybe, what else?

"James I'm sorry, I just thought."

I look at him, and immediately regret the notion. All those times, those dreams I had that'd leave me ashamed in the mornings are flooding my mind and, god damnit why is he leaning over my lap? Now of all times I'm fighting back. Don't think about his eyes are looking up at you so needlingly, how you've wanted to be with the most familiar person, thing in your entire world and how gosh darn much you missed this blonde ass brat.

Take a breath,

Think,

You know it's wrong,

Is it?

Barnes don't,

Don't,

Can't,

Stop,

Wait,

Without thought my lips come crashing down upon his, and for something so wrong everything feels right. My arms envelope his small body, and I pray I don't hurt him in my eagerness. I pull him closer, rougher then soften my grip remembering who this is. I shift, so that my face is nuzzled in his hair and his head in on the left of my chest and from there I place a kiss on his temple, apologetically.

Neither of us say a word and, I'm almost thankful for it. Almost.

"I missed you." I say softly into his ear.

"you know I gathered as much"

And we laugh. We laugh like nothing happened during these past years, like we're the same dumb kids in Brooklyn pulling each other (one idiot more than the other) out of fights. Like one of us hasn't been through hell and back, loosing himself in the process. It's almost as if we're the same in each other's eyes.

My gaze must have been sorrowful, as he brings a hand to push back a strand of un-kempt hair to which I lean into. The hand falls from my face down the prosthetic. In a moment like this, I really wish I could feel his touch, but the feeling is gone where the cool metal lays. I trail over his concentrated face, to his thinly veiled neck, down to his small body. Hazed memoires of my lonely dreams resurface, and despite my efforts I can't drown them. My hitched breath was obvious as it drew Steve's eyes to my own. I didn't hesitate to pull him close, over my lap and kiss him, longer than before, stronger than before. I'm leaning into him now, wanting more.

I have to remind myself to break, for air and for Steve before continuing to want and beg for him. My tongue skims his bottom lip but nothing, he remains (mostly) sealed as I desperately demand further.

"Bucky," whimpers out from his lips, whilst I take advantage to slip in further for a while, guiding our long tangle.

Eventually he breaks away, panting hot air against my neck, finding a resting spot for his head under mine and every action, movement he does is so perfect. He's so fucking perfect against me and I'm finding it harder to restrain. Trailing away from his lips, to his jaw and dancing down his neck leaving bites and bruises, finally attacking his cut marble collarbone.

"Wait Buck stop," he says, pushing me back.

My words stumble awkwardly out in a quick "Steve," before he answers, "what if someone see's?".

I pause and think, logical thoughts begin to form but never really conclude as I merely lose the care, "let them."

He flusters, it's so obvious yet so, so cutely attractive I start dwindling the remaining shreds of self control, and he knows. God the bastard knows, and circles his hips teasingly destroying the last straw of control I had left.

"God you're such a bastard," Hisses out through my clenched teeth.

Steve looks at me, and leans in whispering "so what are you going to do about it?"

An almost growl rumbles out from my chest as I pin him down, using my prosthetic to pin his hands to the armrest as my other hand slowly, and forcefully un-buttoning his blouse. God he's beautiful. So damn precious underneath me, looking up with a rousingly glazed eyes. My hips grind into his, teasing with my eagerness as a small rewarding mewl escapes his lips.

Before I get the chance to attack his belt he pulls me in by the dog tags, tutting in disapproval to my dismay. His hands place themselves on my hips and waltz up my spine, pulling at the loose fabric of my shirt up over my head. His face just fell to an amazement, mouth shaping into an 'O' and pupils blown in bewilderment I've only rarely seen. His frail little hands hover over my front, unsure. Impatiently I take his hand, press it to my chest, smirking uncontrollably in the process. I guide his hand loosely over my chest, to my abdomen and further where we pause. That moment, it clicks into place where this, where we are going, and I can't help but twitch underneath his hand.

The thought alone is enough to finish me off right here, just unraveling into a mess hovering overtop him with his hands barely at my belt, I'm already far to tightly restricted and It's maddening. He starts creating friction, flicking a finger over to my belt where he finally un-buckles the leather and starts to unzip my fly, setting my wild self free. We slip my trousers down, and Stevie just sits there. Eyes blown wide in thought as he subtly bites his bottom lip in concentration.

Like with everything he does, intrigue crossed my mind as to what exactly he's plotting. Pushing me away, sliding off the couch onto his knees he beckons me forward with one hand, guiding the other up my thigh. For a brief moment his eyes glance up and ask for some permission, to which I nod. With said allowance his hand comes to cup my crotch, using his thumb to brush over the agitated head through my boxers and the fucker gets a moan escaping my lips (to which of course he relishes in). His tongue draws over his lips quickly, as he eagerly slips my throbbing member out of the slit of my boxers and dives in quickly, hungrily. He takes my length in as far as he possibly can, choking and gagging.

"woah woah, Stevie baby…" I hum pushing him back to take a breath.

I guide my hand back to his blonde locks and dive my fingers through. My thumb circles his neck as I lead him slowly back onto my needy length. I keep him at the tip where his tongue swirls around the head, he starts taking me in again.

"use your hands if you need to kitten,"

His left hand comes to plant at the hilt, squeezing my base and testes, and I leak pre-cum into him. He pushes down and drags his sweet little tongue back under where a long vein is and retracts back to the head where his tongue plays once more. The sight of him, taking me in his pretty little mouth has breathy moans of his name emitting from my voice without thought. He's taken my thoughts with every bob and drag over my erection. Thoughts are replaced with feelings, feelings are replaced with warm swelling from the pit of my stomach out to the ends on my nerves and those feelings become pure pleasure. I buck my head back onto the couch, being so overwhelmed. His head dives deeper after every movement back and forth, soon enough he starts taking in all he can, gulping down all I give. His tongue swirls in circles along my shaft and upwards on the head, paying extra close attention and fuck, where'd he learn this?

My metaphorical rope dwindles as I pull closer to the edge of orgasm, and just when I thought I was done Steve bites down ever so softly at the base and pulls up over the entire length, squeezing a spurt of cum back onto his lips.

"Steve, kitten, baby I, I won't last" moans out.

He smirks while still working, eyes darting up as he does one last drag, squeezing my testes and pulls off just as I melt into my orgasm. White ribbons leak out onto his lips, chin and chest. God does he look amazing.

He purposefully grabs my tossed off shirt, using it as a rag to wipe off all I left on him, slowly and teasingly of course. He won't let me off easy. Only when he cleans every last bit does he let the shirt drop, and climb back over me, straddling my lap and coming in for a tender kiss. I can taste the salt on his lips (does it drive me mad). My hands start on his shoulders, holding him firm before sliding down his pretty little feminine waist and to his hips where suddenly a quick thought goes off. I pull him off me, placing him back on the couch beside me, before quickly running to the bathroom ignoring his whines. Rummaging around takes longer in my sex hazed brain before I finally find the round blue tin I've been searching for and return with it.

"Hey Stevie?" I say returning to my seat on the couch.

"Yeah? What was that?"

"Nevermind that, just lean over my lap kitten. "

His eyebrow arches, but still comes to lean over nonetheless. "Need I ask why?"

"Because," I pause, leaning in closer to his ear "I'm going to take care of you babe".

My hand starts mid back and fall over the rest of his body (taking his loose garments with me). He shivers under me both with anticipation and cold as air hits his skin. The tin (now unscrewed) is laid in the small of his back for perfect easy access to lubricate my first two fingers.

"Do you know what I'm going to do?" I ask, to which he shakes his head.

I plunge my index from his tailbone down to his warmest spot, diving deeper as he mewls and buckles under my touch. There's no time for him to adjust as I start circling his rim in larger and larger increments, dragging over the inside, searching for his sweet spot. When he gasps, I know I've found it, and drag my finger across it, pulling out briefly and ramming back in, driving moans of encouragement each time. He clenches around with each small touch of his prostate, being so immensely sensitive. I tease, drawing little circles softly. The circles harden, and hook into him as I drag back to the entrance, sliding another slicked finger in.

With every mewl, moan and especially whimper escaping I reassure him. "So precious Stevie, being so good."

He starts pushing back onto my working fingers, wanting more, to go deeper to which he hums in satisfaction. Unable to keep still he buckles and quivers under such immense, pleasure? I assume at least for every little detail of him. The breathy moans and mumbles of my name, the arousing movements he does and the blush spreading across his body (painting a new shade of pink exclusive to sex). It's a memorable sight to say the least, one I had dreamed of yet only now come to realise how god damn better it is now to be living it.

"B-bucky!" moans out loudly, clearly as I drag a nail into his prostate un-expectantly. "I can't do it Buck, I'm not going to make it,"

Leaning down, I place small kisses on his neck and shoulder, whispering "Yes you can kitten, I know you can" before adding a third finger.

More than before, he sings out while writhing and falling with my thrusts. A multitude of pet names from both parties serving only to edge us both on to the point of madness. I quicken my pace, and randomize my movements going from soft to forceful in mere milliseconds only to indulge in Steve's beautiful little cries of pleasure that hardens me again all to quickly. He won't last much longer and we both know but I intend to milk him entirely off all he's worth.

When my fourth finger is squeezed in he's all to done for, crying out "James" one last time before releasing himself. He tenses and relaxes around my hand, before I slip out.

He whines then, all to suddenly feeling empty.

I ask him "Can you turn around to face me?" and while he's slow to replying, he nods slightly and turns, just as I asked. I scoop him up and bring his head to lay on my chest, kissing his forehead. The corners of his swollen lips curl upright, smiling to himself just as he drifts off in my arms.


	2. Chapter 2

When I wake in the morning I almost thought last night was a dream. Almost. A head of blonde hair affirmed the realisation that no, it wasn't just another lonely dream. It was in fact, real. The thought itself, invigorating.

Last night on the couch, we got only so far before he passed out (bless him). Where then I carried him back into the too small bed of the apartment, wrapped myself around him and drifted off to wake where we are now. Awkwardly hard and drowsy from just waking up. It doesn't help that he's on top of me, nuzzled into the crook of my neck, legs wrapping on my hip, driving me wild. Steve Rogers, you are a teasing little shit. Curse you human biology. Why must my blood flow as rampant as my thoughts?

I'm selfish, I know. I want so much of Steve now that I'm back I'm hardly thinking of the consequences. If left with no self control I'd probably break the poor guy in two. And while the thought is so immensely teasing, I know better. I know not only to be gentle but now to be careful. If I could have it my way, I'd screw into him relentlessly and passionately. Biting, suckling all along his neck, showing the world this bastard's mine and-

No buck. Calm. You're not helping this awkward situation. How do I usually deal with these kinds of mornings? Cold showers, but if I get up I'll wake Stevie. Just wait it out, it'll go down. It's fine- maybe I just, slide my hand down, and y'know.

Bucky you can't just touch yourself next to Steve, but god it's just so tempting. He's right here and it's just so easy. I'm doing it without thought. It's almost like it's him, and that's what I imagine. His hand playing with me, tightening around and squeezing me for what I'm worth. I can just see his frail body taking me in so nicely. A body so small but un-believably sexy (in my eyes). Does he get me riling, by thought alone bringing out so much I must contain, to remain un-noticed. I'm still doing this as stealth as possible. Containing my noises, moving with as little movement as possible but I don't think it's enough. I stop completely. Still as I sense shuffling and mumbling next to me praying he'll just remain-

"Bucky?"

Shit.

"Morning Steve." I say as awkward less as I can manage.

He looks up at me and smiles, whilst simultaneously shifting to be more comfortable and oh shit, he grazes THERE. He looks down to the tent in the bed sheets, confirming (to my humiliation). Pausing, he bites his lip. And while that is usually quite attractive I'm too focused, panicked to be distracted by that. Time moves painfully slow as I watch his thoughts tick by, quickly but not quick enough.

"I could've helped you, you know." Is whispered into my ear and, it takes a few moments to fully process it.

"Um, you still can?"

Quickly he rolls over slightly, opens the drawer to the nightstand pulling out a small tin and a condom. Honestly, I'm more surprised he has the latter of the two objects. Maybe, this wasn't his first time. The thought shouldn't sadden me as much as it does, it's not like I haven't, but I don't know I just thought with Steve,

"Need I ask?"

He looks away, embarrassed? Yeah, probably. "I thought I might manage to get a girl home, but later started to realise I didn't want to…"

I muttered a "Steve?" getting his attention, to place my lips on his again in a quick spurt of reassurance. It's a drug, his lips. It's ecstasy to be kissing him. I don't care about anything but his lips, or him. For all I care he is my universe. My lips part from his and slide further to his jaw. Kissing, biting, suckling at the pale skin just below his ear. I forget about judgement, and other people just for now I worship him. With that I roll over, together, so that he is on top of me and I can look up at him. Damn he's kind of adorable?

"Hey Stevie?"

"hm, yeah?"

"Pass the lube will ya?"

Though he rolls his eyes with such drama, he tosses it at me and realise I need to make a decision. Do I lubricate myself, or him? Do I watch him writhe in sensation from my hand again, or do I make him wait? Let him beg? Maybe I'm putting too much thought into this.

I slide my fingers in lube, and drag my hand over my length, coating it fully (making ever sure Steve knows exactly what I'm doing). I take the chance to stroke and amp myself up, trying to be as slow as possible, trying to tease, however failing in the process. I myself am far to excited and decide to give up, just pulling Steve closer to me, locking lips again. My hands find his hips and grip into them, firm enough to leave marks later. A small little claim I lay. I pull him, drag him circling to over my groin. I buck up mildly, just enough to show him.

"Steve, kitten, are you-"

"Just get on with it" he whines. Impatient much Steve?

Letting go, I drop him onto me. He takes me in to the hilt and lets out a gasp, I can't help but smirk. He's so tight around my length, and so perfect. His body starts bucking out from the sheer force, and it's amazing. I hold myself back, not wanting to rush. The view I have is breath taking. I want to jolt up and start diving into his pure blissful self, but no. I watch him adjust, and take my cock in entirely. I focus on us, where we're connected, where he takes in too much for him too handle.

He mumbles for me to move under his breath, to which I only reply "nah, you gotta do that."

His body paused, and he looked a tad confused.

I pull myself up, closer to him just barely against him where I kiss at his skin mumbling "I want to watch you ride me babes, take me in, work yourself over on me, drive you to where you- we need to be" against his skin in a husky tone.

Steve looks away, red starting to dress his cheeks and body. Taking a deep breath in he starts in a slow pace dancing around and on top of my hips. A soft moan escapes out as he starts going in more, raising himself up and dropping down further, turning and grinding, raising and dropping. Damn it's better than I ever imagined. He pulses around, drinking in what spills out early because I can't help it, not with him riding me the way he does. He turns back to face me, using his arms to brace me again as he goes harder, deeper. Frail hands glide their way up my body to plant at my chest and a devilish idea strikes my mind. I let him turn and work himself just a little more before I push up into him un-expectantly driving my name mewling from his lips oh so rewardingly. His nails pinch into my chest, and my grip on his hips tighten. He whines out more, calling my name and a string of other curses I never even knew he could say all while I take back a bit of control, guiding his hips with my grasp on his hips.

I keep thrusting with every drop, pushing as far as will can let me before our skin is slapping against each other in rhythmic percussion. With how deep, and vivid we go the thought crosses my mind of Steve being able to walk tomorrow, or even later today. Will he be so broken by sex, by me? Steve's pace starts dragging, and his breathing struggles more. I take it as a sign to change positions, pulling him close and turning to place him on his back where I take over.

We're pressed closer together, my head in the crook of his neck, his hands wrapped feebly around my thick frame, clinging on feverishly. It's here where I lose control, being so close to the edge I take one last final sprint, finally being able to hit that one spot to watch him cry out my name, in such pleasure and drive. He tells me, begs me not to stop but I'm so close to the end, reaching the final climax I can't last much longer. A few more thrusts there, watching him buckle and cry from everything is what finishes me off, spilling into him. I close my eyes, shallowly thrust out a few times before coming to a final halt, catching my breath. In all my hazed focus I didn't even realise the mess I made of Steve, or that Steve made of himself.

I finally pull out, met with a whine. "oh, my lord Steven Grant Rogers-"

"what?" he manages to shuffle out.

"while you're fucking drop dead gorgeous, covered in bruises, bite marks, and all else. We need to get you cleaned up doll."

"mm, in a minute."

"Why?"

"Well, uh, I'm kinda sore", to which I can't help but laugh. I'm impatient as fuck in all honesty and instead decide to pick the poor boy up and carry him to the showers, in spite of the threat of "James Buchanan I swear to Jesus H. Christ I will end you!"


End file.
